


Take Me or Let Me Go

by Ladderofyears



Series: Fictober 2019 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Harry, Auror Training, Dubious Consent, Harry is Always Staring, M/M, Naked Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 07:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry and Draco are Auror Trainees, but Harry isn't happy about the situation. Especially on the day that Draco steals his dressing-gown.





	Take Me or Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second story for Fictober and uses the prompt: _"Yes, I'm aware. What's your point?"_

Harry watched over the top of his textbook as Malfoy emerged from the shower block, languidly yawning and knotting the belt on _his_ dressing gown. Draco lazily tousled his blond hair in a nearby mirror, before turning around and walking back to their shared dormitory.

What, _precisely_, was the pointy-faced git playing at? It was patently obvious that the dressing gown was Harry’s own. It was Gryffindor burgundy for one thing, rather than that sodding, silky green thing that Draco was always prancing around in. 

Harry felt his temper stirring, and his pulse start to quicken. 

The nettlesome arse was obviously making some sort of point. It was bad enough that Malfoy had been taken on as a fellow Auror Trainee, and even worse that they had to share quarters but stealing his stuff? Harry tucked his wand into his back pocket and stood. 

Maybe everybody else thought that Malfoy was a changed wizard but Harry was still less than convinced. 

~@~

Malfoy lay on his bed, the very picture of smug, spoilt privilege. Harry watched him flick over a few pages of his book before seemingly deciding it was worth acknowledging him. 

“You look deliciously livid, Potter,” Draco observed, using that ridiculously fancy voice that made Harry’s blood boil. “Did you want something?”

Harry watched a stray trickle of water slide down the back of Draco’s neck. “That’s my dressing gown,” he replied, swallowing hard. 

“Yes,” Draco replied, amused. “I’m aware. What’s your point?” 

“That you need to take it off.”

Draco stood then, and loosened the belt. He quirted an eyebrow at Harry. “Now?” 

And Harry watched as Draco allowed the robe to slip open and slide to the floor. 

~@~

Draco’s body was slender and strong, long-limbed and muscular. Harry saw the white lines of his _Sectumsempra_ scar and stepped forward to trace the almost translucent hairs between Malfoy’s flushed nipples. Draco’s prick was half-hard, a ruddy red compared with the pallor of the rest of his body. 

“I think you want me,” Malfoy said, quietly. “You’re always _staring_, Potter. Always _watching_. I can feel your eyes following me, judging me. I’m here, right now. Make your choice. Take me, or let me go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


End file.
